Angel
by GoddessofSnark
Summary: Everyone thought the sun shined out of his every orifice. I knew better. I knew he was nothing more than a manipulative old bastard. Songfic to A Perfect Circle's The Noose.


_So glad to see you well, overcome them  
Completely silent now  
With heaven's help  
You've cast your demons out  
_

He stood up on the dais, smiling down at those below him. It sickened me to watch him up there, acting as if he was modest. Trying to look as if this wasn't something that he wanted. Trying to look humble. Of course the others loved it. The others ate it up. He was refusing to speak. It would ruin the persona that he was trying to portray if he did.

He smiled, a failed attempt at a sheepish grin, at the Minister as his praises were lauded. I took a hearty drag off my flask; this was a sickening display. And people loved him. People revered him. Acted as if he could do no wrong. Acting as if he was a god. Acting as if he was the savior of the wizarding world, as if he was the one that had killed Voldemort and not some itty-bitty one-year-old.

He said that it was through the efforts of everyone involved in the Order. He said that it was through a gift of grace of Merlin himself that the world was able to defeat Voldemort. But he made little mention in every interview he had of Potter. He made little mention of the fact that he was not there. He made little mention of the fact that if it wasn't for him, Lily and James would still be alive.

He had nothing to do with the defeat of Voldemort. But yet everyone went on as if he did. Everyone lauded him as a saint. An angel. As if he had wings and a halo. As if he were the messiah come down to save the world. The only thing he's got on Jesus is the beard.

_And not to pull your halo down  
Around your neck and tug you off your cloud  
But I'm more than just a little curious  
How you're plannin' to go about makin' your amends  
To the dead  
_

And all the while, while he is being lauded there are families out there that he let get wiped out. There are innocent men and women that he did nothing about when he could have saved them. The Longbottoms-Snape had told him that they were a target, but he did nothing to protect them. Look at them now. Locked up in the loony bin with that poor son of theirs likely to follow.

The Prewetts. He was there. He watched them fight against five death eaters. The two of them against five. And the bastard stood and watched. He claimed that he had been stunned. But knowing the old bastard he was cowarding out. A right chicken is what he is. A damned manipulative chicken. And Molly still adores him. He let her brothers die in front of him, and she still thinks he's amazing. They were brave men. Braver than he could ever hope to be.

And the Potters. How he'll be able to stare the boy in the eye years from now and tell him that he knew that the Potters were to die and he stood idly by, I don't know. I'll leave that up to him. He's got enough lying under his belt to last him well.

He'll say that those who died died valiantly in battle and that the losses will never be forgotten. But that's all the families of the dead will get. A half-assed apology that he didn't care enough to seriously think through. They were pawns in his little game of chess. A worthy sacrifice is what he'll say. He'll say that they died for a greater good. As if that can make amends for letting innocent men die.

_  
Recall the deeds as if they're all  
Someone else's  
Atrocious stories  
Now you stand reborn  
Before us all  
So glad to see you well  
_

Bu it isn't so much that he stood aside while good men fell. It was that he acted as if he had no part in their deaths. While those scum may have been the ones to utter the killing curse the old fool is every bit as guilty as they are for standing aside. To use a muggle analogy, they pulled the trigger. He supplied the bullets. He let them fall without care, without remorse. He stands in front, speaking of the horrible acts as if he had no part in them.

There were even the deaths that he orchestrated himself. The ones that he gave to the scum. He claimed that it was for a greater good. That it would help gain public opinion. If the nation was united against Voldemort we stood a better chance. And he gained national support by creating deaths that the public was sympathetic to, making the death eaters seem even more like the monsters they are.

He was manipulative. I don't blame the minister in the least for watching out behind him. I doubt the old codger wants to run the country, but he certainly could if he wanted to. Al he'd ave to do is say e'd want to. And he's got the nation so wrapped around his little finger that they'd vote him in in a landslide.

He's a public speaker. A showman. A politician. A powerful wizard, yes, but you have to have power behind the promises. I'll begrudge him that much. There are few that can equal the power of the old bat. If any. But he is a manipulator first and foremost. He can make himself out to be the hero. Make himself out to be some great wizard, some great person. A great wizard, perhaps. But far from a great person.

_  
And not to pull your halo down  
Around your neck and tug you to the ground  
But I'm more than just a little curious  
How you're plannin' to go about makin' your amends  
To the dead  
To the dead_

The word will eventually get out though. Maybe not now, not while the elation from the war being over runs high, but the truth will be known. Someone eventually will call him on it. He can't go on hiding,acting as if he is morally superior to his foe when he willingly sends lambs to the slaughter, not forever. Someone will speak.

The dead will always speak. The dead will always be avenged. And dead men don't lie. There's a muggle saying, that dead men don't tell secrets, but they do. The stories behind the deaths will get out eventually. Crouch has already been disgraced for his authorization of "any means necessary." The old codger will be as well. Maybe not now, but later. Every man gets his just desserts at the end.__

Your halo slippin' down  
Your halo's slippin' down to choke you now 

He may be regarded as a saint now. He may be regarded as an angel now. But I know better. The rest of the Order knows better. Just all of us fancy our lives, the way we've got them. He's a damned manipulative bastard, he can ruin a life if he says the right thing to one of those that follow him swearing the sun shines out of his ass.

He'll fall eventually. Pretending to be an angel when you're the devil himself only lasts so long before you wind up hung by your own halo.


End file.
